iGet My Revenge
by RayLedgend
Summary: Spencer may seem like an innocent goof, but underneath he hides a dangerous malice. When Carly denies his feelings and chooses another, perhaps even she won't realize what she's awakened, until it's too late. Maybe Spencer's resemblance to Crazy Steve is more than just physical.


It was the first time I killed someone. That bitch had it coming, let me tell ya. Most people wouldn't believe me when I told them that, but they just don't know. They don't know the games she plays. They don't know what she tried to do to me. But I know. Oh, I know all too well. And I made that little bitch pay for what she did.

'This is Trevor' she tells me as she introduces me to that smarmy little prick, that little Ken doll with that smug little smile. She grins a phony innocent grin as she tells me that she's dating his little cock, like she didn't know what it felt like, that cunt! She knew how I felt about her! She knew she was ripping my heart out, but she didn't care. Just smiled as she told me she might as well be sucking on his fucking little dick and gargling his fucking cum. Oh, how that stung, how that made my blood boil! Sure, she acted oblivious, but I knew she knew what that did to me, and I wasn't about to let her get away with it. If I can't have her, no one can!

That's what I said to myself over and over as I stayed up late, alone grinding that lone kitchen knife. Alone in my room, night after night I shaved that blade down to a razor sharpness. A sharpness that could glide through hardened leather. A keenness that would cut through flesh as easy as it cut through air. I could hear that metallic scratch in my room as I shaved that blade down sharper and sharper. I could feel the shavings of steel roll down my legs like tiny metal ribbons. I could see and smell and TASTE the iron in the room as I coldly worked that blade down to a sword-like razor-sharp edge.

It was days until I was satisfied; I must have burned through three knife sharpeners, but I finally finished my weapon one night at midnight. I could see that little knife shimmer from the moonlight peering in my windows at me and I smiled. I smiled to myself as I lightly swung it and felt it slide through the air. I gently brought the edge over my fingertip and was delighted, oh so delighted to see how it drew blood without any effort. And I gripped the wooden handle of the blade, fondling it as I tasted that metallic tasted of blood on my finger and I laughed. Only softly, but I couldn't help but chuckle. She'd pay now. That bitch, that heartbreaker would finally pay.

I left my room that night with a softness in my step, gliding over the carpeted ground below. I snuck down the hall to her room silently, ever so silently, like a thief and I listened at her cracked open doorway. I heard nothing. With care, I slid open the door and looked inside and I saw no movement. I saw her sleeping in that precious little bed with those pink sheets, and even from outside I could see her peaceful little face in the moonlight. I grinned and felt my heart race as I crept oh so silently up to her bedside, and I felt her soft carpeting below my feet, and I could taste my mouth getting wetter with anticipation and I looked upon her face, her oh so beautiful face.

I looked right into her eyes, and all other sights blurred. Her cute little eyelids closed in a serene slumber, she had no clue what was coming. I saw her tender skin on her cheeks, her small little nose breathing in and out, but she didn't smell me, didn't smell my intent to kill. I looked at her hair, her dark, silky smooth, straightened hair, and I breathed in. I could feel my lungs expanding, I could hear my breathing getting faster and harder and more ragged. I could feel the sweat drop down my forehead, I could feel my heart beat faster and faster as I leaned in close and brought my face ever closer to hers.

I could smell her smell now, that familiar scent of her sweat and her shampoo. I could see her chest rise and fall in her sleep, and I could feel the knife in my hand as I gripped that handle so hard I felt I might be bleeding. I heard a laughter in my ears, the silence turning to chanting laughs! I looked upon her lips, her soft, thin lips that hung open ever so slightly in her sleep, and my free hand tensed itself, curled ever slightly as if I were gripping something in it as well. I could hear my voice come out in a low moan and I brought my open hand over her face. I showed my teeth as I grinned and lowered my hand further down and felt her sleeping breath.

And I did it. With force, with resolve, I did it! I pressed my palm down over her mouth and nose and pushed with might. I saw her eyes shoot open, wider than they'd ever been. Her pupils dilated as her eyes became mere orbs of white as she shook and tried at once to scream, but my hand pressed against her mouth muffling every sound. We looked into each other's eyes and I could see she was scared, and she wanted to ask 'why?' Why her, why me? As if she didn't know, that bitch!

I looked into her eyes with a hardened look as she raised her arms and tried to move my arm off of her face, but in her groggy weakness, she couldn't even budge me. I pressed ever harder as she shook and tried again and again to scream, to shriek for help, but her cries went unheard. I could feel her breathing intensify in her panic on my palm, and I squeezed around her cheeks. I could feel the spit get pushed onto my palm as her eyes darted up toward my other hand as I lifted my blade into the air.

I was now holding the blade above my head and I know she could see it glisten in that pale clear summer moonlight. She could see the glint in that sharpened blade that I held so tight and aimed so true. She was struggling now, she was trying to roll away, to dig her nails into my forearm. She was trying everything, desperately, like a caged beast! She was kicking and fighting with every ounce of herself but I gripped her with hardened resolve and felt that knife in my hand and with all my power I plunged it into her. I pushed it with force into her throat and within moments, I could see the red leaking out around the blade, soaking into those pretty pink bed sheets, that pure white nightgown, and I grinned wildly!

I removed my other arm now, and could hear her ghastly wails. The volume of her voice just dropped, she gurgled her words. She didn't know what to do. She cried, her eyes watered and she shook and tried to move but every time she moved her neck she felt the sting of that blade cutting her open ever so slightly more, but she dared not pull it out. I laughed at her struggle. Her color and her strength drained with her blood. I looked into her pailing face, her glazing eyes and I breathed like a beast myself as I raised my arms again only to push right back down against the blade as I gripped it again and pulled it out, slicing an even wider mark as I did. By now, I could even hear the wind rushing from her, I could see the bubbling blood around her soiled neck as she tried to crawl and I aimed my dripping red blade back at her.

And again, I did it. With that same tensing, that same anticipation, that same raucous sound of laughter in my ears growing ever faster, I brought the blade down again with true force and penetrated her side. That put a stop to her desperate crawling as her last bit of energy forced her into a curled up defensive position. And I removed the blade again and held it limply in my arms. The blood was leaking from it faster now, dripping onto her motionless body. Mostly motionless. She was shaking a bit, but it was nothing more than her pathetic death rattles. I laughed, a triumphant laugh. It started light, little more than chuckles, but the laughter grew larger, almost on its own. It was escaping my lips without my approval, as my body heaved in laughter.

Y'know, I thought it would be harder killing Carly. I thought something in me might try to stop myself, but when I did it, it was a feeling of release, of freedom. Like all the emptiness I felt all my life and tried to bury with my stupid art projects was gone. I felt more alive than I ever had, I felt more complete than I ever would. I had to feel this again!

It was the first time I killed someone, but it wouldn't be the last.

**Fin**

**I like this. I can't help but read it aloud in a low voice. Though the writing is a tad repetitive, I enjoy it. I think it gives the feeling of unhinged madness that Spencer, our main character, clearly displays. That's what I was going for anyway. I hope y'all liked it too.**


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